


The Lost: Butterfly Squashed/Butterfly Flew

by argle_fraster, astrangerenters



Series: The Lost [3]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argle_fraster/pseuds/argle_fraster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of this could have been, all of this should have been, all of this would have been yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Butterfly Squashed

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate universe...to the alternate universe that is The Lost ;)
> 
> TROLOLOL LOST-CEPTION!?

**One // a.**

He and Koyama were folding sheets when Nurse Ogawa poked her head in the laundry room. “Got a blinking light in 216.”

Koyama grinned. “Iijima-san.”

“Yep,” the nurse said. That meant it wasn’t an emergency. Iijima-san tended to call for a nurse because he wanted company, not because he’d fallen or needed help in the bathroom.

Kame couldn’t blame the old man. It had to be lonely in a place like this. Some of the residents weren’t all that coherent. Iijima-san was still sharp as a tack, but his wife had passed several years back, and his children rarely visited. Why not show him a little respect?

Kame tossed the sheet at Koyama, who just rolled his eyes. “I got him.”

“He likes you better anyway!”

Nurse Ogawa stood aside. “Don’t you spoil him. No special treatment, Kamenashi. Every resident is equal.”

But not every resident cared enough to learn his name, ask about his family, ask about his dreams for the future. It made coming to work at a place like this every day a lot easier.

He knocked before sliding the door open. “Iijima-san, you pushed your button?”

The old man was sitting in his chair by the window. “Kazuya-kun, my radio.”

“You want me to turn it on?”

“Could you?” Iijima-san looked a little glum, probably because of the overcast day. It was a pretty rainy May.

He nodded, flipping the switch.

“...Alzheimer’s medication that would slow the onset of dementia was canceled today due to risk factors involved in...”

Kame switched on the baseball game. “Ham Fighters?”

“Ham Fighters,” Iijima-san repeated with a smile. He pulled the other chair across the linoleum to sit beside the old man. “How are you today, Kazuya-kun?”

He stretched. “Can’t complain. Have a date tonight.”

“Oh really?” the old man said, twinkle in his eye. “Catch yourself a pretty one?”

“You bet.” He didn’t really need to tell Iijima-san that she was just a girl from his high school. It was kind of hard to find a girlfriend when you told them you changed old people’s diapers and helped them feed themselves every day. Altruism didn’t pay for designer bags and fancy dinners.

Iijima watched the rain fall, and Kame listened to it churn in the building gutters or splatter on the roof. “Don’t spend your whole date talking about baseball, Kazuya. Nothing made Naoko more angry than when I’d talk about baseball at the dinner table.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a grin.

The man seemed to light up entirely when he spoke about his wife. They’d been married for fifty-six years before she’d passed away. Kame didn’t know if he’d ever get married at all at the rate he was getting dates. It was definitely a different way of life nowadays. Well. Maybe someday. He had his whole life ahead of him anyhow.

Iijima ruffled his hair a bit. Kame hoped he’d washed his hands after his last bathroom visit. “If you want to talk baseball, you talk to me.”

“I’ll remember that, sir,” he said.

“Now turn the radio up,” Iijima held up a coin. “500 yen says the Ham Fighters pull off a win today.”

He smiled. “You’re on.”

\--

**Two // a.**

"You know what? We should start a band."

And Ueda just laughed, snorting into the foam of his beer, like Jin had said something hilarious (which Jin was pretty sure he hadn't, because it was a damn good idea, just like all of his ideas were).

"No, I'm serious," he said. "We should start a band. And have an awesome name! We could be like, the next Mr. Children or something."

"Akanishi, you barely know how to play the guitar."

Jin frowned into his drink, willing the ice cubes to melt under the intense heat of his gaze. "Minor details. I'm a very quick learner."

"What about school?" Ueda asked. His fingers were folding the cocktail napkin into delicate, tiny squares, like miniature origami creations that wouldn't stay in the position he put them in.

The letter was in Jin's back pocket, wrinkled and smushed between his wallet and a post-it with some girl's phone number that he vaguely remembered as being cute. He'd thrown away the envelope, but he couldn't bring himself to throw away the actual letter- even the stationary was official. An official rejection.

More like an official failure.

"I'll have a lot of time to learn to play," he said, side-stepping the question as best he could after three drinks and counting. "Really, I'm good. You should hear me. And you're good with music- we could write all our own songs."

Ueda was silent for a few minutes. The bartender- who was male, pity- was busy making an order of shots for some giggling girls that were probably only barely old enough to get in the doors, and the guy beside Jin was half-passed out on his arm and nearly falling off his stool. The atmosphere was just as it always was, and usually Jin liked that. Usually he craved it- the ability to get lost in the crowd, to drown himself if he wanted.

But he just thought back to the letter in his pocket, the seal and the signature and the words _expulsion from the University of Central Tokyo due to continuously poor grades_ stamped into his mind like a brand. He'd always be branded with that.

"You know, college isn't for everyone," Ueda said, finally, and he didn't say anything else, nor did he need to. He'd figured it out on his own, just like he figured everything out. Jin didn't really mind; his friend wouldn't press it. Jin liked that about Ueda.

"So what do you think?" Jin asked. "We should do it. Come on, we should totally do it."

Ueda ducked his head, but Jin could see the beginning of a smile there, quirking one corner of his mouth upwards a bit, even hidden behind long bangs. "Well..."

"I know a dude who plays keyboard, really well," Jin continued. The more he thought about it, the more the excitement bubbled over in his chest. It was like hot air, rising up to his throat. He wondered if it would start spilling out from his tongue, too. "I could ask him to help. I know he would."

"You can't write music," Ueda said.

"I can!" Jin argued. He leaned so far over his shoulder hit the rim of his glass, which clinked against the bar top. "I can even write songs in _English_. I'll show you!"

He put one hand in the air like he was conducting an opera and cleared his throat. "Your red lips, they shine like... cherries," he warbled, and Ueda smacked him hard on the shoulder (that would bruise later) to shut him up when people started to look over in their direction.

"Oh, god!" Ueda laughed. He looked like he was trying to hide behind the folded napkin he'd been working on. "I'm going to have to check all lyrics that you write, aren't I?"

Jin didn't even care that there was an insult there; he was more concerned with the agreement he could hear nestled between the lines. "So you're in? You have to do this with me!"

"Yeah, okay, okay," his friend batted him away when Jin started to clutch at Ueda's sleeve.

Suddenly, the fact that he was no longer a university student didn't seem to matter as much. School couldn't help him be a singer- and Jin wanted to perform. He wanted to sit in front of an audience with his guitar and watch their faces light up. He wanted to have panties thrown at him on stage. He wanted to drive around in a limo with suit-clad details that had earpieces in.

"We are going to be so famous," he sighed, happily.

"Well, we are also going to be totally broke," Ueda said. "But listen. I know a guy who knows a guy who works at a club. Hole in the wall kind of place, but if we get something going, maybe he'll put in a good word for us there and we can play it."

Jin motioned the bartender over for another round. "A real gig?"

"A real small gig," Ueda clarified. Even when he was rolling his eyes, he looked pleased- Jin could see the flush of excitement on his cheeks.

"Awesome." And it was. Jin took a swig of his newly refreshed drink, enjoying the burn that traveled all the way down to his navel. "We need a kick-ass name."

"You're an idiot."

Jin frowned. "That's a terrible name. How about... _The Panty Droppers_."

"Grow up," Ueda snorted. "No."

" _Skeet Fly Boys_."

"Absolutely not."

" _The Wonder Dicks_! Come on, that's good!"

Ueda groaned loudly. "Keep this up, and I'm quitting the band before we've even begun."

"Fine, whatever," Jin sighed. "Lame-o. We'll figure out a name later, then."

Ueda held his glass in the air expectantly, and Jin raised his own, keeping it an inch away. "To the unnamed band, then," Ueda toasted.

The glasses rang loudly as they clinked them together.

"To the band," Jin echoed, and didn't even try to stop the grin he knew was splitting his face. "This is totally going to work."

\--

**Three // a.**

"Happy New Year!"

Toma just laughed, giving Tanaka a high five. "Not yet! You're still early!"

A streamer hit him in the face, and he brushed it away. He was trying to figure out how to get through the crowd of laughing, dancing people without actually running into anyone and inadvertently spilling a drink or something. He also really wanted some of the mini-pretzels he could see people eating.

"Just getting warmed up!" Tanaka yelled, and Toma could barely hear it over the music playing. He hadn't really expected the office party to be such a big thing, but leave it to the president to pull out all the stops. It had been such a good year, after all- their stocks had soared.

Fingers closed around his wrist, and he turned to see Ai. The pink gloss on her lips was glittering in the lights.

"Hey," Toma said, and he felt suddenly stupid, like he was 12-years-old again, all gangly and awkward.

"Hi," she breathed.

After a long moment, she released his wrist, but didn't stop smiling. "You look beautiful," he told her, even though he felt kind of stupid saying it.

"Thank you." And then she was tugging at his elbow, leading him through the throng of celebrating people towards the front. Towards the long table of food and the punch bowl, and President Kato who was wearing his nicest suit. "My father is about to start his little thank you speech."

They stopped in the front of the crowd, and Ai gave her father a little wave.

"Thank you all for coming to celebrate the new year with us!" President Kato said, and the room quieted instantly as he held his hands out. The man was powerful, but he'd been very gracious to Toma- and he'd done so much for the company, created so many jobs and really held the place together. He was a remarkable leader, and Toma respected him.

"We are so happy that you are all a part of the Kato Restaurant Solutions family," the man continued. "This year looked shaky for awhile, but we pulled through. Because we are strong, and we band together!"

There was some applause from the crowd, and then Toma heard Tanaka shout from the back of the room, "It helps that Domoto dropped out of the running for the new chain supplier!"

Then there was laughter, even from President Kato, who pointed to Tanaka even as he was grinning. "That's right! Never underestimate how luck can help you stay on top! And don't look a gift horse in the mouth; when things go in your favor, take advantage of them!"

Ai's hand slipped in Toma's.

"So, as a special thank you to all our employees, please enjoy the refreshments that have been prepared for you, and," President Kato eyed Tanaka, "the open bar, which will take care of you all for the rest of the night."

Another round of applause, this one accompanied by whoops and cheers, and Toma turned to Ai.

"I really want to get some pretzels," he told her seriously.

She smacked him on the arm. "Always thinking with your stomach!"

"Well, it's a party!" he laughed. He hop-skipped out of her reach when she tried to do it again and managed to score a handful of crackers, half of which immediately broke and slipped between his fingers. It was nearly midnight, so he maneuvered the both of them through the back doors to the patio, with a view of the lake lying just beyond the railing and the fireworks barge ready to be launched.

"Everybody get ready for the new year!" Tanaka cried out, and noise makers sounded out throughout the hall. Ai slipped under Toma's arm and he pulled her in closer, crunching on his pretzels as the countdown started.

"10, 9, 8, 7-"

Ai's elbows knocked against Toma's ribs a bit, but he didn't mind it. From behind the punch bowl, President Kato gave Toma a slight nod, and Toma bowed his head a bit back.

"6, 5, 4-"

He could see the light of the flames on the barge, the smoldering fuses.

"3, 2, 1! Happy new year!"

Toma pulled Ai up and kissed her. When he pulled away, her face was lit up by the fireworks exploding in the sky overhead, bursts reflected in her eyes. "Happy new year," he told her.

"Happy new year," she whispered back.

\--

**Four // a.**

The outfit was itchy on account of it being one of the spares. Since he wasn’t a regular employee here at the auditorium, they hadn’t exactly had one ready for him. Jun would have preferred to be home sleeping. Science, engineering and the business school had already graduated in the morning, and it was time for the afternoon session to get underway.

It had been 6:30 in the morning when Mao-chan had called, near hysterical. She’d been scheduled to usher for graduation, but her grandmother had fallen and broken a hip and the whole family was driving up to Sendai that day. Jun was too nice sometimes, but she was going to let him keep the pay for working both ceremonies so at least he’d have a bit more money coming in.

He just didn’t want to be there. Humanities and social sciences graduated in the afternoon session, grad students included. He just hadn’t realized until he’d gotten there and glanced through the program. It was stupid to have looked through it at all. Why was he still thinking about something that had happened a year ago? Why couldn’t he just move on?

Why couldn’t he stop his stomach from twisting when he saw ‘Sakurai Sho’ listed under the economics department? Sho would walk across the stage that afternoon, but so would a few hundred other students. Once the audience was seated, he didn’t have to stay. He just had to get the doors open at the end to ensure people left in an orderly fashion.

There’d been countless times he’d wanted to confront his senpai, to ask what he’d done wrong. Sure, they’d been drunk that night, but Sho had reciprocated, hadn’t he? There was no way he’d been completely unaware of what he’d been doing. He shook his head and took a stack of graduation booklets as a few more parents came filing in.

“We’re leaving the first eight rows empty for the graduating students, but please sit wherever else you’d like,” he said politely, handing a booklet to each person. “Please silence your mobile phones for the duration of the ceremony.”

He’d run away, hadn’t shown up to keep studying. He’d gone and changed his major right away because there was no way he could face Sakurai ever again. Now the guy was graduating, and his dad probably already had a fancy job lined up for him. He was privileged after all.

This was the last time he’d ever have to see Sho. But this was also the last opportunity he’d ever get to see Sho. Would Sho smile as he crossed the stage? Or would he be solemn and stoic, shaking hands with the faculty like the adult he always believed he was?

“Please silence your mobile phones for the duration of the ceremony,” he told the next parents coming in, almost robotic at this point after saying it so many times.

The ceremony started, and Jun could have stayed in the hall, wandering around, not having to sit through boring speeches. He stayed, back against the wall by the lefthand side doors.

The auditorium was full of proud parents, happy families, friends. And then there was Jun, watching it all and wishing somehow that he could do it all over again. Wishing he could pass that exam and go out for drinks with Sho. Stumble back to campus to kiss and fumble around before getting back to his room.

And this time, he vowed, this time he’d wake up before Sho snuck away. He’d get some kind of answer. Even if it was rejection, at least he’d have an answer instead of an empty bed, still warm where Sho had fallen asleep.

“Sakurai Sho,” he heard. He’d been able to drown out all the other names.

He watched as Sho walked across the stage (he’d gone for stoic), listened to the polite applause. He couldn’t tell where Sho’s family was sitting - they weren’t cheering louder than anyone else. Somehow, it didn’t surprise Jun that Sho’s family wasn’t boisterous or loud.

The ceremony came to a close shortly thereafter, and Jun obediently did Mao-chan proud by ensuring that all the guests left in an orderly, thoughtful queue. He turned in the uniform and received a great deal of thanks for filling in at such short notice. Now he could go home.

When he made it to the student union, that’s when Sho saw him. It was only briefly - Sho was posing for photographs outside with a young woman and a boy. They looked just like him, so it must have been siblings. Sho paused and stared, and the man with the camera (his father?) chided Sho for ruining the shot.

In the split second of recognition, Jun saw more than he’d wanted to see. It was like having the same conflicting thoughts mirrored back. Was it shock, remorse, embarrassment? Did Sho want to turn back the clock too?

But then Sho turned back to his family, mumbling a sheepish apology and plastering on a smile. A fake one. Even after a year, he could tell. Jun looked away and headed for the train station.

There was no going back. He’d never see Sho again. It was over.

\--

**Five // a.**

Only an hour left, Ohno thought happily. These late night shifts were keeping him from going on early morning fishing trips, but at least the customers were far more interesting. When he worked the day shift, it was usually salarymen who expected him to ring them up faster than humanly possible so they could catch their train. Or it was little old ladies counting out the change they could use to pay for things.

But at night, the combini seemed to come alive. Well, when there were people in the store. Most of the time it was quiet, which gave him plenty of time to daydream or count the coins in the register a few times while he listened to the radio. When there were customers though, they would buy dirty magazines, baby food and batteries together. They’d get condoms and liquor and a single pack of gum. Idol magazines and melon bread. Ohno didn’t judge any of them. He was just interested in how shopping changed once the sun went down.

The mirror by his cashier station showed a young woman looking through fashion magazines and a couple giggling by the energy drinks. A young man entered a minute later, and he hadn’t been to the store before. Well, Ohno thought, maybe he had, but not when he’d been working before.

Alright, so he didn’t have the best memory. But he would have probably recognized someone like that, someone with sharp eyes making a beeline for the plastic-wrapped hamburgers. Not too many people headed straight for the plastic-wrapped hamburgers after midnight.

He rang up the girl’s fashion magazines, nearly dropping her change when he saw the hamburger guy had an armful already and was nearly clearing out the rack. The couple left without buying anything. He wanted to ask the guy if he needed a basket but before he could, he deposited the dozen or so hamburgers on the counter. And then he went back for more.

This was different.

The young man returned with a few more, and one bag of potato chips.

“Would you like me to microwave any of them for you?” he asked.

He looked up, seeming a bit scatterbrained. “I’m sorry?”

Ohno held up one of the packages. “Your hamburger. I can heat one up for you.”

“Oh.” He shook his head and looked embarrassed. “No, no, that’s fine, thanks.”

He scanned them all for a total of eighteen hamburgers. It was a lot of hamburgers. “That’ll be 3510, please.”

The guy dug out his wallet. “I’m moving soon.”

“Oh?” Ohno wasn’t sure how hamburger talk led to moving talk, but again, it was after midnight.

“To America.”

The guy handled his money very cautiously, digging around for the change and setting each coin down as if he was mentally subtracting it from his bank account. Ohno didn’t think about things like his bank account until it was time to pay rent, and then he thought about things like how he probably shouldn’t have bought that extra paintbrush.

“For work?”

“For film school.”

The guy was thoughtful enough to pay in exact change. “Really? Are you going to make movies?”

“Here’s hoping,” the guy said, eyes watching Ohno’s hands deposit each hamburger into a bag. Well, it took two bags when all was said and done. “So are you going to ask?”

Ohno blinked. “Ask what?”

“Why I bought so many hamburgers. Don’t you want to know?”

He did. He really did want to know. But he didn’t want to pry into customers’ lives. He didn’t want people to judge him based on his own purchases after all. “You like hamburgers from the convenience store?”

“I guess you could say that,” the guy answered, leaning an elbow against the counter. “I do like them.”

Nobody else had come into the store, so it wasn't like there was a big line forming. “So that’s it? You like them?”

He rustled the plastic bags a little. “Yeah.”

It was one of the most surreal conversations he’d ever had, but somehow, seeing the guy with his bags of hamburgers made him smile. Work rarely made him smile. It rarely made him feel anything. This guy was interesting. It was too bad he was moving.

“Well, I’m off, have a good night,” the guy said, heading for the door.

He couldn’t help asking. “Um, excuse me?”

The guy turned. “Yeah?”

“I hope you do well in America. If you make any movies, what name should I look for?”

The guy blushed a bit. “Oh. Well. Ninomiya.”

“Okay. Then I’ll be cheering you on.” Ohno wondered if Ninomiya would make movies about hamburgers. Or maybe about convenience stores.

“Thanks.”

By the time he got to his apartment, he was kicking himself. He’d forgotten the guy’s name.

\--

**Six // a.**

“She’s going to be angry when I don’t take her out to eat, Mom,” he complained. “What the hell am I supposed to tell her? Paychecks don’t just disappear.”

“Masaki...”

He adjusted the phone as he looked over his shoulder to change lanes. “It’s my entire Christmas bonus, too. Maybe I should have waited until her birthday...”

“Masaki!”

He sighed, seeing the sign for the exit. There was no turning back now. Well, actually, all he had to do was turn the car around and forget the whole thing. “Yeah?”

“It’s going to be fine. She loves you and not your paycheck. She’s going to say yes.”

He took the exit anyhow, against his better judgment. “Well, even if she does, I’m not so sure about him. They’re different in Europe, right?”

“I don’t see what him being foreign has to do with it.” It sounded like his dad was shouting something in the background. “Your father says he’d be very impressed if he was in Mr. Vaughn’s place right now.”

“Yeah, well, Dad doesn’t have daughters.” Three red lights, and he’d be at the store. “Look, Mom, I’m going to hang up.”

“Good luck, honey. We’re cheering for you over here. And for goodness sake, your shirt better be tucked in.”

The phone line went dead, and he grumbled under his breath. A tucked in shirt was the least of his worries. He parked, seeing customers going in and out of the store. And he kept watching customers going in and out for half an hour before finally getting the courage to get out of the car. Of course, he got his jacket caught in the door.

Little chimes went off as the door slid open, and he entered the shop. Oh, it was even worse now. He could smell fresh fruit, citrus straight up his nose, and he wanted to run. This was probably the scariest thing he’d ever done. Riding rollercoasters and that bungee trip after high school were nothing compared to this.

Sure, he’d met Becky’s mom several times but never her dad. Some relative or other back in the UK had passed away, and for most of the time they’d been together, her father was back home dealing with estate transfers. But the timing had worked out this time - but would it be in his favor? He wasn’t too sure.

He realized he’d been standing in the middle of one of the aisles for a few minutes, staring at some kiwi fruit. This wasn’t working. He headed for the cashier. He just had to get this over with. Becky’s younger sister was working as a cashier and gave him a confused look.

“Aiba-chan, what are you doing here?”

“Um, is your dad here?”

She nodded, and her eyes were just as green as Becky’s. “Yeah, he’s in back. Why?”

“Could I talk to him?”

“Should I ring up the kiwi first?”

He stared down. Without realizing it, he’d grabbed a few. He set them down and shook his head. “I...no, I didn’t...uh...no.”

She smiled, waving another customer forward. “My mom’s back by the apples. Why don’t you go talk to her?”

It seemed like he was going to speak with every member of the family, but he had to get used to it, didn’t he? He shoved his hands in his pockets before he picked up any more fruit out of nervousness. He could feel the little velvet case there, but it wasn’t giving him a lot of courage. Sure enough, Becky’s mom was arranging some bright red apples in the rear of the store.

“Masaki-kun, Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” he mumbled, bowing his head slightly and feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am, thanks for remembering.”

She had a look in her eyes. Could she see right through him? Did she know why he was there? Then again, why else would he drive all the way down to Yokohama on a work day?

“Can I help you with something?”

“I was actually...I was wondering...” He looked down. His shirt was tucked in, thank god. “Could I please speak with your husband? It’s important.”

Her eyes were nearly sparkling now. Yeah, she was totally on to him. But the fact that she was smiling and not looking horrified was a good thing, right? “You looking to invest in the fruit business?”

“Um...no...”

She squeezed his arm. “I know, I know. Sweetheart, that was a joke. Let me go tell him you’re here.”

Becky’s mother entered the office, going through the door marked ‘Private,’ and he was alone. He went over the words again and again. Two months of practice, and there was no way he was going to get it right when it counted. He was going to screw up. He was going to say it all wrong, the man was going to tell his daughter not to date such an idiot (let alone marry him), and it was going to be all over.

“Masaki-kun?”

He followed Mrs. Vaughn into the office, seeing her husband sitting behind a desk looking...well, looking intimidating. He looked rather serious as he got to his feet, and Becky’s mother left them alone. Mr. Vaughn said nothing, merely shaking his hand and gesturing for him to have a seat.

“I’ll stand, sir,” he muttered as Mr. Vaughn sat down, leaning back in his chair. His face had...well, it had no expression whatsoever, and that was scarier than if he would have looked pissed off.

He tried to banish Japanese from his head, willing the words to come to him. English, Masaki. English!

“ _I...my name is Masaki. No. You wait. My...my name is Masaki Aiba, I am boyfriend of Becky’s, of Rebecca’s, okay_?”

Mr. Vaughn nodded.

“ _Okay_.” He hurriedly pulled the little jewelry box from his pocket, and it went scattering across the man’s desk. Becky’s father held it up, and he took it back with shaking fingers. “ _Sir, I...I would like to...marrying..._ ” What the hell was it again? “ _Would like to have please your permission to marrying. Marrying Rebecca. I would please..._ ”

“ _You’re asking my permission to marry Becky_?” the man asked calmly in perfect English. Well, obviously it was perfect, wasn’t it?

“Yes!” he blurted out. “I... _sorry, very nervous_.” He took out a business card and set it down on the desk. “ _I working full time so I can take the care of Rebecca. I working in science laboratory, large company in food industry. Testing food, I do this._ ”

Mr. Vaughn took the business card and examined it.

“ _Also, I...I love..._ ” This was embarrassing enough in Japanese. English just made it worse. Oh god, he was sweating now. “ _I love Rebecca. Very much. I love her so much, Mr. Vaughn, I...I loving her and taking the care of her the rest of my life, okay_?”

Mr. Vaughn nodded for him to continue. Why wasn’t he angry? Why wasn’t he smiling? What had Becky’s mother said before showing him in?

He opened the ring box and set it down. “ _I would please marrying Rebecca. Wait. I will please be asking Rebecca, um, tomorrow. Tomorrow I asking but not unless I have permission of father. Um, uh, wait. I asking only with permission of you, okay_?”

And that was when Mr. Vaughn got up. Aiba shrank as the man came around the desk to stand in front of him.

“ _Look at me_ ,” he commanded in English. He looked up and where he expected fury or rage or disbelief or even laughter, Mr. Vaughn was smiling. Wait, he was smiling?!

Aiba nearly fainted when the man grabbed his hand and started to shake it.

His smile - it was the same as Becky’s, big and teasing.

Aiba didn’t expect to hear his native tongue seconds later.

“You could have asked in Japanese, Aiba-kun."


	2. Butterfly Flew

**Three // b.**

Busan Harbor was bustling with people.

Toma let himself get swept away in everything- he wasn't sure if the activity had to do with the ferries coming in from Japan, or was simply the norm for the area. He didn't know any Korean, but he knew the area he was in was referred to as Chungang-dong, and that there was a small group of people operating a ship that was going to go back to Japan to pick up survivors. It had taken awhile to get a good translation on what was going on.

Survivors. Toma's head buzzed with the word; he'd heard it over and over the past few days, whispered between officials in corners where they thought no one would hear them. Survivors. And Toma knew enough to know that he was one of them. He fit into the label, nice and snug and alive, walking on foreign soil. He couldn't understand the din that was flickering around him, but he could feel the tension cloying in the air all around his shoulders.

And he waited. He had ten minutes, still.

In the distance, nestled within the waves, large metal rigs stood harsh and red against the sky. There were piles of baskets to his right, lined up on the side of the pier as if waiting for owners to claim them.

Toma was worried. They'd heard the news and neither had said anything about it for hours, days, even. And Toma didn't want her decision to be influenced by his own. Going back to Japan wasn't safe or easy, or even smart- but it was the right thing to do, and Toma knew that in his gut. People had gotten them out, kept them alive. He felt like he owed others still stuck on Japanese soil the same courtesy.

He checked his watch again. Five minutes. Five minutes, and then he'd head towards the boat where the group was meeting.

They'd agreed. Meet at Busan Port, across from the specified location they got from the translation- but only after a day of thinking it over. A day apart, a day weighing pros and cons. Do they go back and risk getting infected, risk losing what they'd been granted? Or do they stay safe in Korea, waiting until the danger had passed, if it ever did?

Toma had known. Toma had known what his decision was the minute he'd heard the information. He had to go- there was no other option.

Three minutes.

Toma let out a long breath. A Korean woman passed by his shoulder, shifting by close enough that their arms brushed. All around him, the smell of fish permeated everything. The waves lapped up against the dock boards.

"Hey."

He turned to find Ai standing with a shawl pulled over her shoulders, fingers clenched around the ratty fabric. His heart leapt and his stomach clenched. "Hey," he replied.

She smiled at him softly between tendrils of hair that blew in her face. "I knew you'd be here."

"Yeah," Toma said, and when he swallowed, the action hurt.

"My father gave me the name of the man in charge of the operation," Ai told him. "He said the runs were legitimate, and they were bringing back non-infected people here. To Busan Port."

That was it, then. Toma wasn't sure if he should be happy she was there- if she went back with him, they could be together. But she could get sick, she could get-

"Are you sure?" he blurted out, before he could stop himself. "About this. About going."

"Yes."

He tried to force the tightness in his chest away, but it lingered. "Okay. I- me too. It's..." He shrugged, feeling lame. "It's the right thing to do, isn't it?"

Her fingers were warm when they slipped between his own, and she squeezed his hand.

"It is," she said.

"We might..." he warned. He couldn't finish the thought.

And she pushed herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him, missing a bit and only catching the corner of his lips. She tasted like spices, like a dish he probably couldn't pronounce bought from a haggard merchant who knew nothing of the turmoil going on just beyond the sea. "I know," she said.

Toma took one last look at Busan Port- at the people arguing over the price of tuna, of the children walking with brightly colored backpacks. He looked at the woven baskets and the fishing boats bobbing up and down with the tide. He took a deep breath, savoring even the tangy, salty smell of fish.

"Okay," he told her, and pulled her close to give her a sideways embrace. Her shoulder was painfully thin beneath his palm. "Let's go, then."

\--

**One // b.**

His stomach rumbled angrily.

Dried food was okay for snacks, but sustenance wise, it really wasn't enough to live off of. He'd been able to find some scraps and bits and pieces of meals he could pick apart and eat without heating. He woke up in the middle of the night with images in his head, pictures of his neighbor screaming and clawing at the air, the blood splatters that were congealing on the pavement of the street.

Kame couldn't keep living the way he was, and he knew that; he had to find something else, another way to stay alive.

He ended up at the mall. He didn't even know why. He'd always gone there before the whole world had gone crazy, and even deserted, it still felt like something he could cling to. Something that was normal in a world that couldn't remember what normalcy even felt like. He picked around broken glass and splinters of boxes and overturned carts. If he found a secure place, maybe he could just stay there.

The vending machines had long since been ransacked, but he was able to find a granola bar hidden among the shards of the plastic face. He walked by the graffiti on the walls and tried to block the images from his head. He didn't want to see the paint splashed against the brick, because it just reminded him of everything that had gone wrong.

The world had gone wrong.

He ran into a group of people just past the mall doors that no longer opened automatically, but had been propped and broken halfway with benches from the interior.

"Ah," one of them said, a tough looking guy with earrings and spiked hair. "You're okay, right?"

"Yeah," Kame replied. He wanted to weep with relief, because they weren't rushing to eat him or drag him along the street. Their pants were splattered with blood, but so were his- it was impossible to get around without getting the grime all over the place.

The girl, whose hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, cocked her head to one side and studied him. "We've got a place to stay- do you?"

"I- don't," Kame managed to get out through jilted, painful breaths.

"Then you can come with us," they said.

That was it.

No payment required, no more questions asked, just the simple acceptance that he wasn't eating brains and they were willing to give him a place to sleep. Some sort of cover, a way to keep from losing himself on the streets with the neon lights that still pierced the dark of night, even though no one was out to admire them.

They took him to the basement of an apartment building. It looked to be the boiler room, or at least the place where the mechanics of the elevators were kept. It was hot and stifling, but the doors were sturdy. There were a few others- they all looked like Kame, ragged and existing on the last shreds of their reserves they had left.

There was so much gratitude towards his saviors welling up in his chest that Kame didn't know what to do with it. He tried to swallow it down instead, because gushing on them would only freak them out.

The girl gestured towards a blanket near the corner, edges curled up over on themselves. "It's not much, but at least it's clean, right?"

"Right," Kame agreed. He'd slept on worse since the whole thing broke out.

"It's not easy to get around anymore," the punk-guy said, almost like a warning. Like, don't go too far because you might not be able to get back hung unspoken in the air between them.

And he was right- Kame had seen cars stopped in the middle of the street, and dark hashes on the cement where an explosion had gone off, triggered by a survivor trying to get away in one of the abandoned vehicles.

When he sat down, the girl followed suit a few feet away, chin resting on her hands. "So where have you been?"

"Were you at a center?" the punk-guy asked.

Kame shook his head. "No. Couldn't get in. I've just been wandering since then."

"No one else was with you?" the girl asked.

The two exchanged a glance Kame couldn't read, and he wondered if they were sizing him up. Maybe they were trying to figure out if he was a threat. He was so tired that his temples were throbbing, head buzzing with noise he couldn't block out. He just wanted to take a nap, to finally relax; his shoulders had been in knots since the day the quarantine had gone down. His back ached.

"You're lucky," the girl told him.

"Yeah," Kame sighed. "I mean, maybe I am."

"Not much to you, is there?" the guy asked, poking at Kame's side with a finger. He was laughing, but it didn't sound mean. Kame even laughed a bit with him.

"Not really."

The relief was making him dizzy. He was glad he was sitting down, because he didn't think his knees would have kept him upright much longer. It had been awhile since he'd slept- a couple days, maybe more? Most of it was naps here and there, whenever he thought he could let his guard down or exhaustion finally hit him like a blast between the eyes.

The girl made a noise in the back of her throat and reached for a bottle of water. Kame's mouth was watering just looking at it- he hadn't seen water in days.

"Here," she said, holding it out to him. "Drink up."

"Thanks," he replied. He did.

\--

**Five // b.**

"There are safety centers," Ohno said. "The government set them up. They put people in them to keep them safe and contained until everything is taken care of."

Maybe he'd just meant it as casual conversation. Maybe he'd just been sharing what he'd found when they split up. Nino had found hell- but Ohno had found answers. Answers Nino didn't necessarily like. He sat for a long time staring at the wall, chewing on his bottom lip, as Ohno clucked his tongue against his teeth and stared at a map of the Tokyo Metropolitan area. He didn't say anything, letting the silence wash over him. It wasn't calming.

Nothing was calming anymore.

He wanted to know why his family hadn't been put in a safety center. Why they'd been left to fend for themselves against something they couldn't possible have fought against. Why no one had come for him in the mall, to tell him that they needed to get out and get somewhere safe.

After awhile, Nino turned around. He thought maybe Ohno had fallen asleep, but the other man had simply fallen silent. He looked up when Nino spun around on the floor.

"Where?" Nino asked.

Ohno shrugged. "Everywhere. Campuses. Community centers. Hospitals."

"They won't hold," Nino said instantly. "You've seen what's out there- they'll get in. They'll find a way."

Ohno looked at him for a long moment, and Nino couldn't decipher what was in his gaze. Then he sighed a little, looking back down at the map, almost resigned. "Maybe."

"You know they won't," Nino insisted. He was feeling stubborn- stubborn and angry, like he'd been burned on a match he hadn't known he'd even been holding. Life was all sorts of unfair, and they had to make the best of it. So, he was going to make the best of it. "They have food there, right? Supplies?"

"I would assume so," Ohno answered.

He waited for the other man to make the connection, to tie the ends together, and when it didn't happen, Nino smacked his finger down on the map a couple of times, right where Ohno's eyes were focused.

"So think," he said. "We don't have any. We don't have enough to last us until the weekend."

A moment, then two. And Ohno took a breath that sounded very heavy. "What are you proposing?"

"They can't know what's going on. There's no way. If the people inside those places knew what was going on outside, there would be panic. They'd never hold. And the government can't deal with a widespread panic- not anymore than has already happened."

"Okay," Ohno said, slowly.

Nino poked the map a few more times for good measure, enjoying the shock of pain that shot up into his wrist. "So we contact them. Get them to tell us where they are somehow. We can get in and get out. Just get some supplies. Get what we need."

When he drew his hand away, Ohno was quiet. Nino waited until the other man looked up at him again. "What about the people?"

"They have to find out, don't they? Sooner or later," Nino said.

Ohno didn't reply, and Nino could see that he was going to lose the argument they weren't even having.

"My family should have been in one!" he cried, and it all came out of nowhere, hitting him like a bolt of lightning that hurt all over and shook him to his core. "Okay? My family should have been there, and they weren't! So I don't care, because I had to bury them myself, and I don't want to die!"

He withdrew a little bit, settling in on himself. His shoulders slumped forward when he drew his knees into his chest. It had come out harsher than he'd meant, and he wanted to swallow it all back down. "I don't want to die, Satoshi."

There was a long pause, thick and pronounced.

"How would we contact them?" Ohno asked. His voice was quiet. He was looking down at the fingernails on his right hand, inspecting the cuticles.

"I don't know."

The shoelaces on his sneakers were disgusting and covered with blood and grime and things Nino didn't want to think about. He stared down at the muck coloring the loops of fabric until Ohno rustled the map a bit, trying to fold it back together and doing it wrong, so that corners stuck out at funny angles.

"You know what I always wanted?" Ohno mused. "To be on the radio."

Nino stared at him.

"Mm," Ohno sighed. He couldn't get the map to fold right, even after taking it all apart again. "I always wanted to do something like that."

"Yeah," Nino breathed.

Ohno met his gaze, and held the map up just slightly, so Nino could see his finger pressed against the Yamanote line. "We should tell people what's going on. Maybe we can help other families avoid the traps."

"Satoshi," Nino started, and then couldn't finish. Ohno dropped his gaze, looking thoughtfully down at Shibuya Station.

Nino reached over and took the map gingerly, folding it up so it was a thin square once more. When he was done, he felt a little better- freer, at least. His mind wasn't quite so cloudy, and even though his stomach was grumbling angrily at the lack of sustenance, it didn't feel so bad anymore.

"Where would someone go," he asked, "to broadcast something on the radio?"

"A station, maybe," Ohno said.

Nino reached his hand out, and Ohno found it, fingers moving up to Nino's elbow and shoulder, feather-light touches against his skin. When Nino leaned forward, Ohno's mouth was warm and parted almost immediately for him.

"I don't want to die," he whispered, against Ohno's cheek, when Ohno's teeth found the lobe of his ear. Tiny prickles of electricity were shooting down his spine.

"We won't," Ohno sighed, and when his hands found Nino's hips, slipping across the flatness of his abdomen, Nino believed him. "Kazu, we won't."

\--

**Two // b.**

Jin hadn't expected Muse to be one of the remaining strongholds in Roppongi. It was usually packed with foreigners on their second or third club for the night, and Jin hadn't gotten in too often before.

But now there was a guy out front with a handgun at all times keeping the crazies away. Jin didn't think a handgun would work against a swarm of the crazy fuckers at night, but according to the few people who now call the club their home base, it had worked so far.

"The ones who haven't gone too crazy yet, they've seen enough yakuza movies," Miyuki told him. "Nobody wants a bullet through their face."

In the VIP section, it would have cost 25000 yen to use one of the rooms for two hours. Now he and Miyuki shared this one in exchange for the suicide missions. Now, Muse's owner called them 'raids' since he stayed nice and safe while they ventured out a few blocks when there was daylight to see what kind of food and water they could snatch to keep them all breathing a little while longer.

But they were suicide missions, plain and simple. People had called him an idiot before, but he wasn’t completely retarded. Most of them didn't come back - if they did come back, the owner let them stay. Shelter at night in exchange for putting your life on the line during the day.

He'd made it through three raids so far, and Miyuki four. That's how he’d met her - they'd picked the same 100 Yen Shop to enter.

The sex was good, Jin thought. No, the sex was amazing. He’d never imagined how awesome 'world going down the shitter, every man for himself' sex would be. Miyuki had been a hostess in Shinjuku. Jin supposed that Miyuki wasn't even her real name.

"I never did anything for less than 100,000 yen," she told him when they were alone at night, occasionally hearing the guy with the handgun firing off a warning shot. She’d go down on him if he gave her half of the water he brought back. She'd let him fuck her if he promised to do the next raid in her place.

It was a good arrangement, all things considered.

In the morning, the owner said that Akasaka Junior High School just past Tokyo Midtown was open for business. Jin quickly learned that 'open for business' meant the crazies broke into a safety center and everything was up for grabs. Safety center meant water. Much as Jin liked getting to drink all the top shelf liquor left behind, water was important.

"I don't want to go on this one," Miyuki said when they curled up on the couch for the night. Her hand was already behind her, broken fingernails scratching against the crotch of his jeans. "I don't want to see the people from the safety center."

Jin wasn’t too fond of it either. He felt kind of bad for the people who thought they were safe - how horrible would it have been for crazy zombies to break in when you had no idea what had been going on outside?

"I'll go," he whispered in the darkness, already stirring at the insistent way she was teasing him. This thing here at Muse wasn't going to last forever.

"Bring me something nice," she said as she turned to pull down his zipper.

\-- 

It was a mess, a real damn mess. Blood everywhere. People had been staying in classrooms, and it smelled. It seemed like they'd been trying to keep things sterile - the dead bodies were all wearing matching scrubs.

There wasn’t much left when he and the truck driver guy and the salaryman found the food stores. "Waste of fucking time," the truck driver said, hefting one of the only remaining cases of bottled water. They'd have to really start portioning it out.

The salaryman grabbed a bunch of microwave ramen - of course, they didn't have power at Muse so they'd just have to eat it crunchy style. Jin snagged another case of water and followed the two of them back to the art classroom where they'd snuck in.

But he could hear something. It was faint, really faint, but he could hear music and it bothered him. "I'll catch up," he said, setting the water down next to a canvas splattered in oils and blood. They hadn't encountered any crazies on the way, so he'd take his chances.

He followed the music to the next classroom over, and it was just an iPod. He followed the white cord to the ear buds although...

"Shit," he said. It was a kid. It was a kid. The crazies didn't seem to discriminate based on age. Miyuki wanted him to bring her something nice after all.

It was some kind of kid music, some anime theme song. He disconnected the earbuds and turned the iPod off before sticking it in his pocket. He took off his jacket and tossed it over the kid's body.

"Sorry."

\-- 

"How am I supposed to listen to this?" she complained, looking at the iPod.

He just shrugged, taking a long sip straight from the bottle of whiskey.

"Find some headphones."

\--

**Six // b.**

It was silent in the car on the way to the city office.

Aiba wanted to make sure it was quick, because Jun had class in the afternoon to get back to, and Mrs. Yamada had chores to do at the house she was taking time away from. In the passenger seat, Becky's hands were in her lap. She didn't look nervous, but every now and then she'd wring her hands a little, fingers knotting together just enough, and Aiba would know that there was a bit of anxiousness there, just beneath the surface.

When they were stopped at a red light, he glanced in the back seat through the rearview mirror. Mrs. Yamada looked content, hair piled loosely behind her head. Jun was staring out the window, expressionless. It was sort of how he always looked, and Aiba wanted to press, but something kept his mouth shut. It really wasn't a very good time. It seemed like Jun had a lot going on in his head that Aiba wasn't sure he'd ever be able to understand.

It wasn't how Aiba had pictured it, really, in his head. But then again, nothing really was anymore.

When he parked the car, the four of them exited without a word. Becky had put on a skirt that twirled around her knees, but it was mostly just for show. Aiba reached for her hand as they went through the doors, and her fingers curled around his. It felt good; it felt like something, something special.

He'd called ahead to set up an appointment, just to make sure he wouldn't be wasting Jun and Mrs. Yamada's time. It was bad enough asking them both to accompany- Jun had taken two trains just to get out to Chiba that morning. Becky's palm stayed warm against Aiba's as they waited for the official's office to open. He wasn't really nervous, but his mouth was dry nonetheless.

"Mr. Aiba," a woman in a pleated suit said, and bowed, motioning him inside. "Do you have the papers filled out and with you?"

"Yes," Aiba said. He gave them to her. She glanced at them just to make sure everything was complete, and then brought out a small pad of ink.

"This is the Registration of Marriage Form," the marriage officer told him.

Beside him, Becky drew in a little breath, almost like she'd been waiting for the moment. Aiba squeezed her fingers a little tighter. There was something in his stomach that he couldn't really identify.

"Do your witnesses have their seals?"

Mrs. Yamada pulled her inkan out of her bag, and Jun tugged his own out of his jacket pocket. Aiba wondered if Jun had even remembered what his looked like before asking his parents for it. He wondered how Jun had explained what he needed it for.

"If you can just press them here," the official said. She gestured down at the paper.

As the two did as they were told, Becky's face turned up towards Aiba's, open. Her eyes were shining, but maybe it was just from the harsh lights in the room. "Masaki?"

"Yeah."

She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, a bit of hair coming loose from the clip to curl around her ear. "I'm... glad. That you wanted to do this."

Aiba couldn't imagine not doing it. He couldn't imagine letting her have the baby and not legally be its father. He sort of nodded, feeling strange. It was almost like he was floating above the situation, watching it from above as it transpired below.

"I love you," he said. "You know I love you."

It was the right thing to say. Her face brightened as she smiled. "I love you, too."

The woman handed them the receipt when they were finished. Aiba wondered if he was supposed to feel different. Being married didn't feel like an explosion, or a light bulb going on, or anything, really. He thought about how his mother would have been happy. She would have commented on how pretty Becky was, on what a nice girl she was.

Mrs. Yamada gave him a one-armed hug. "Banzai," she murmured near Aiba's ear. It made him want to cry, just a little.

Aiba caught Jun's elbow on the way out. The other man started, but Aiba thought it was mostly reflex- everything was foreign still. Weird. Unknown. "You okay? You seem a bit out of it."

"Yeah," Jun said, and shrugged. "Just... you know, school stuff."

"Did you go to that meeting I told you about?" Aiba asked.

Something flickered across Jun's features then, and his face darkened. "Yeah. I dunno. I mean, it's weird."

"Yeah," Aiba echoed Jun's earlier sentiment. He couldn't seem to find anything else to say. He let Jun pass by to get into the car, and Jun didn't meet his gaze again, eyes fixed on something outside the window that Aiba couldn't see.

Mrs. Yamada hummed softly as they drove back to the restaurant. Aiba didn't know the tune.

He reached over the gear shift.

Becky's fingers were still warm.

\--

**Four // b.**

Sho was glad the ceremony was on a weekend- he didn't have to fight for the day off with the other peons, at least. It was nice, too, breezy and warm, and he didn't feel out of place wearing his suit when he walked inside the auditorium. It felt strange to be back again, at least in an official capacity- he still visited on occasion, when Jun didn't make the trek to Sho's apartment.

He knew Jun's family was going to be there, but he'd only met them once, and didn't really feel comfortable enough to sit with them. He lingered near the back instead, one hand in his pocket with his fingers firmly closed around his cell phone. Jun had texted him earlier, prior to the ceremony starting.

_This is it_ , was all it had said.

Watching the graduates walk across the stage reminded him of his own similar walk a year ago. He'd been so happy just to get it over with, to have everything done. To at least have something with his name on it that he remembered getting.

Families clapped for their sons and daughters when their names were called- but Sho doubted this could ever mean as much to them. They didn't have to fight to catch up, fight to relearn everything. This wasn't just a celebration of an achievement, not for Jun. It hadn't been for Sho, either. It was a marker of something that they remembered doing for themselves. Even if they couldn't recall how they'd gotten there, the effort, the toil, the nights spent poring over open textbooks; those memories were theirs.

Sho clapped hard when Jun's name was called. He wanted to clap until his hands hurt.

The graduates were ushered back in the wings once the ceremony itself was over. Sho knew his way around, and still knew the professors and a few of the other students he'd had classes with his last year. It was easy to slip by them, to get lost in the sea of suits and kimonos.

He found the figure he was looking for standing near a corner, talking to a girl with a bright smile.

"Hey," Jun said. "Sho, this is Inoue Mao. Mao, Sakurai Sho."

"Yeah," Mao replied. "I remember you."

Sho glanced up at Jun and knew the question was written all over his face. Jun just nodded and shrugged- yes, then. She meant she remembered Sho from before. Sho didn't know what was stranger- that it still happened, or that he'd largely grown used to having things like that said to him.

"Nice to see you," was the only thing he could think to say.

"Same," she replied, and gave Jun a little wave before she left, dissolving into the sea of similarly-clad graduates.

Jun's smile was real, and Sho reached over to squeeze his arm a little. They were in public, after all. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Jun ducked his head a bit. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Yes, you could have," Sho laughed, "but I appreciate the compliment."

They were quiet for a second. Jun played with the cuff of his jacket.

"You know," Sho began, "I haven't asked what you plan to do now. I figured- well, I figured I'd ask today. Give you time. You never brought it up."

Jun stayed silent, and didn't look up.

"I didn't want to press," Sho added.

And then Jun sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know."

When it got to be too much to bear, Sho shifted from heel to heel. He wasn't even sure why he was so nervous; after everything, he didn't have much to be worried about. They'd faced nothing and blankness and hell and come out alive, hadn't they? He didn't have anything hidden from Jun anymore, not even his own feelings, threatening to burst from his chest.

"And?" he prompted.

"I thought I'd move in with you," Jun said, with a grin.

Sho's face grew hot. "Oh."

"Think that'll be okay?" Jun asked. He was cocking his head to one side like the cheeky bastard he was. He'd probably just been waiting to drive Sho crazy, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Sho rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, feeling fuzzy and hazy and silly all at the same time.

"Jerk," he ground out, but he couldn't stop the laughter that followed it. "Making me nervous for nothing."

"Someone has to keep you on your toes," Jun replied.

They started outside. The campus looked nice- banners strung up, flags waving in the breeze. The flowers that lined the pathways were starting to bloom, unfolding in tiny bits of colors amidst the green of the grass and gray of the pavement. They wove between families congratulating their children, people taking snapshots next to historical plaques and building signs. There was a maintenance shed tucked back in the shadows of the building, and then the gym looming beside it. There was a curvy path that span between them.

Jun stopped in front of the large double gymnasium doors, where there was a trash can covered with black plastic. He fumbled around for something in his pockets, and Sho leaned in to see what it was.

"You brought that with you?" he asked in surprise, upon seeing the torn leather front of the planner. The pages were so wrinkled and warped from water damage that it didn't close flat anymore.

Jun let out a long breath that sounded like a hiss between his teeth. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Jun smiled, looking up to meet Sho's eyes. "Because I don't need it anymore."

He paused for only a moment, and then let the planner fall into the trashcan. It disappeared into the shadows.

Sho thought of the pages smeared with dust and stains and dirt. He thought of Jun's careful printing and the ink that bled into little pools. He remembered the blood that had splattered the last page, and the words that he knew Jun had agonized over because he couldn't remember writing them.

Jun's shoulders seemed to straighten.

"Okay?" Sho asked.

"Yeah," Jun said. He looked at Sho, and the smile on his face was genuine once more. "Yeah. I am."

Sho put his arm around Jun's shoulders, fingers tightening briefly around the knobby joint. Jun was warm when he pulled him closer. "Come on, then. You should go and find your family. And then you have to go out and get a job. Be respectable."

The sun felt even warmer when Jun roped his arm around Sho's waist in return, as they left the long shadows the gym cast over the sidewalk and made their way down the winding pavement.


End file.
